


Old Home Week (The More Things Change)

by Medie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>oh look, aliens are invading again and, somewhere in the midst of it all, a married couple bickers. You'd think impending alien invasions would take priority, but never let it be said that John and Rodney can't multitask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Home Week (The More Things Change)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadownashira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadownashira/gifts).



They’re with Sam on the bridge when the order goes out. The Hammond’s crew is relatively new, inexperienced compared to the trio standing at Sam’s chair, so whispers of shock go around the bridge. The veil protecting the SGC and it’s secrets has thinned in recent years, but there’s thin and there’s gone altogether.

Sam presses her lips together and John can see her count to ten. “Huh,” he says, sotto voce, “Haven’t seen that face for a while.”

“You’ve been on Earth,” Sam points out, smile bright. “In Atlantis.” 'Where Teyla can keep an eye on you' is unspoken, but John’s a master of reading between the lines.

Especially when the lines are large print and flashing in neon. 

“I think she’s trying to say we’re a problem,” John says, looking Rodney’s way. 

The look he gets back is indulgent, for Rodney at least, but the reply is exasperated. “She’s trying to say that _you’re_ a problem.” 

“Actually, I’m saying you’re both a problem,” Sam corrects, “And you’re a problem that’s supposed to be on the flight deck right now.” She tips her head in the direction of the screens. “There’s a small problem with aliens invading New York?”

“Oh, right, _that_.”

John’s doing a poor job of hiding his grin and he knows it, but hell, this is old hat to them. They’ve dealt with a few hundred attempted invasions by now? At least these don’t seem to be aliens of the soul sucking variety, so that’s something.

It’s not much, but he’ll take it. 

“You could at least look a little less excited,” Rodney grumps, chasing him off the bridge. “This won’t be like flying jumpers around Atlantis.” 

“No, it’ll be like flying an F302 around New York City,” John agrees with a sigh. “I’ll probably do something extremely ill-advised at least a half-dozen times before this is over and you’re going to hold it over me for months, if not years, and enjoy every damn second of it, and I know it’s pointless to remind you, but I do actually know what I’m doing, Rodney,” John says, but he doesn’t pretend for a second that Rodney even hears him. At this point, they’ve been together so long that, half the time, they don’t need to listen to get the point. “Besides, you’re going to be yelling in my ear the entire time.”

“No, I’m going to be yelling at people here, in Atlantis, and Cheyenne Mountain, plus probably Washington and Ottawa. If I’m lucky, I’ll make at least three people cry and a dozen or so quit in frustration.” 

It says something truly ridiculous about them both that John actually finds that a little attractive.

“Why the hell did I marry you?” he grumps.

“Because I’m a catch in two galaxies?” Rodney preens. “Also the part where my sister threatened bodily harm if my niece couldn’t be a flower girl at least once in her life?”

“That more than anything,” John agrees, because yes, there is one McKay that he is absolutely terrified of and it isn’t Rodney. 

There’s no way that Rodney isn’t still completely panicked, but he does smile at that. “Also the sex.”

“Okay, there’s definitely _that_.” Because, yeah, that’s one area that they definitely don’t have any problems in. Well, most of the time. Rodney’s tendency to completely forget dinner is, well, yeah. 

Not the time to be worrying about that. John waits until they get around a corner, out of sight of the others, before he presses Rodney against the nearest wall. “I’m gonna be fine. It’s just a little dogfighting. We blow up a few aliens, we take some of the pressure off those SHIELD guys, and they get to do all the heavy lifting. Not a big deal.” 

But it is. They’ve heard the reports from SHIELD. No one at Stargate Command has been able to figure out the Asgardian problem (seriously, John does not forget the little grey guys and that big guy running around New Mexico? Not little, not grey, and definitely not naked), but he’s in New York too and so is Loki. 

The only Loki that John’s heard was a little more into cloning future Generals (especially ones named O’Neill) and less into homicidal rampages, so someone, somewhere has some explaining to do…

Assuming they survive this. 

He looks at Rodney and sighs. “Next time we do the big send off? Can we have it in our quarters?” Or, preferably, their apartment in Atlantis with a few days notice to do things right. “Because this feels like the kind of thing I should be making a big deal out of while pretending not to make a big deal out of it.” 

“Afterward,” Rodney says, manhandling him into moving again. “Alien invasion first.” 

“In a hurry all of a sudden?” John asks, but he’s moving as he says it. “Thought you didn’t want me to do this?”

Rodney glares. “If you think, for even a second, that I have even the slightest inkling of support for this cockamamie plan of SHIELD’s, then--” he pauses, mid-build up and sighs. “That almost worked.”

“Did, didn’t it?” It’s John’s turn to preen for this one. He slides through the door into the fighter bay and heads for his plane. “Distracted you good.”

“Almost did,” Rodney corrects. He climbs up onto the plane with John, helping him get settled. “Try not to get blown up, okay? If we’re going to out the entire Stargate Program to the general public by blowing up aliens over New York, no chance in hell you leave me to hold the bag.” 

John smirks, then risks grabbing Rodney and pulling him half into the cockpit for a long, deep kiss. “Like they’d let you do any of the talking,” he says, enjoying the blissed out look on his husband’s face. “Why do you think they have Teyla running Atlantis?” 

Rodney blinks. “Because she’s the only one that can put up with all of us?”

John rolls his eyes. “Not the point.”

“No, the point you’re attempting to make is that she’s the normal one,” Rodney huffs. “Which, yes, but alien from another galaxy and that might prove to be a small problem when you consider the potential for destruction that Atlantis--”

John cuts him off with another kiss. Someone’s going to notice and they’re going to get yelled at, but hell, Sam and Teyla haven’t yelled at them for weeks. They’re overdue. 

“She can run circles around almost anyone on Earth,” he says, even and calm, “She can handle it.”

And so can he.

“Try not to get blown up,” Rodney says, pulling back. His look is almost plaintive as he adds, “I was going to make dinner.”

“Make?”

“Order in, not the point, there was going to make an effort at romance,” Rodney says. He sniffs, dismissive. “Moment’s gone. Go, blow up aliens, be happy.”

John fixes his helmet and grins.

Just like old times.

"Oh, hey," Rodney stops halfway down the ladder, his expression almost sheepish, "Try not to mention me around the Hulk, okay? Banner? Not exactly my biggest fan."

John groans. _Definitely_ just like old times.


End file.
